DirtyDayz
by DethAngil
Summary: For Ex-SF operator and adrenaline-junkie, Anthony "Dirty" Rhodes, the transition from war hero to merc-for-hire should have been an easy one. And it was until the job for Chernarus arose. Now with little ammo and little hope.. he fights to escape the clutches of the "evil" that grips the former Soviet country and its denizens. **First story/not an English major/not an ex-operator**


Prologue

The day was cold and growing colder as the sun began to set on the horizon. At that moment the depressingly-gray sky filled momentarily with bursts of color, but Pavol failed to notice.

No, Pavol didn't pay attention to the sun as he was having an ethics argument with his Bunk-mate, Dmitri. He and Dmitri had been best friends since grade school. After high school, since neither of them had any better options, they agreed to join the Chernarussian Army. They gave the enlistment officer one stipulation prior to their joining; that they get stationed together.

Surprisingly, the officer kept his word and off to basic training they went. Pavol kept Dmitri out of more trouble then either could recall, and Dmitri actually got Pavol laid; no small task as Pavol had a difficult time talking to women. After basic they were assigned to the Chernarussian NorthWest Army Airfield (CNwAA.)

Tonight was their night to pull roving guard, as two of a nine-man team, and Dmitri told Pavol he wasn't going to do it.

"You know they can shoot you for that, right?" Pavol told Dmitri casually.

Dmitri laughed. "They aren't going to shoot me, moy droog, I am about to get really sick." Dmitri's face turned serious all of a sudden and he held his stomach, falling on to his bunk groaning.

Pavol sighed deeply. "You are a terrible actor, Dmitri. And don't fuck me over. I don't want to pull guard all night, just do what you are supposed to do and make sure you are there to replace me. Vloyi is Sergeant of the Guard tonight, and you know how much he likes me."

He wanted to be early so that he didn't get punched in the stomach. Pavol grabbed his hat and rifle and headed to the door. Dmitri was still rolling back and forth groaning, but stopped and laughing when Dmitri was close to the door, "I won't fuck you over, Pavol, not too much."

Pavol slammed the door and thought, _'He is going to fuck me over, he always does'_.

He reported on time and assumed his shift without incident. He also did his standard four hours without cause for concern, reporting in every hour with the guard shack as was required.

When the time was drawing close for Dmitri to replace him, Pavol began walking to the guard shack. Standard procedure dictated that the two guards show up at the guard shack and have a Non-Commissioned Officer, or NCO, inspect them prior to going on guard. This ensured that they had everything that they needed to perform their shift appropriately. An officer was also supposed to be present during the guard change, but they never came out of the Traffic Control tower that was situated in the center of the dual-striped airfield. The officers hung out on the second story, of the three story building, with the military-contracted civilians, and senior NCO's. Privates weren't allowed anywhere near the tower unless there is a serious emergency. And it better be an "I am bleeding out of my eyes" emergency or a "the world is ending" emergency.

As Pavol turned the corner he saw a Junior Sergeant, Mladshiy Serzhant Vloyi, standing in front of the guard shack door waiting for one, or the other, or both Privates to show up. Pavol kept walking towards the door but knew what was happening...and what was about to happen.

As Pavol walked closer to the Junior Sergeant, Vloyi heard him and turned to face him. Vloyi's face distorted with disdain when he recognized Pavol.

-(((Commence count down to 'Blue Falconing'... (Which means "Buddy-Fucking" in non-sexual, militaristic terminology)...)))-

... _IN THREE... -_ Pavol walked just within arm-reach of the Junior Sergeant and stopped.

... _TWO... -_ Pavol came to the position of 'Attention' and rendered the proper hand salute

... _ONE!_ \- Pavol reported loudly, "Mladshiy Serzhant Vloyi, Ryadovoy Alenin reports to the Sergeant of the Guard for guard change."

Vloyi returned the salute saying, "Ryadovoy Alenin, where is Ryadovoy Druganin, humm?"

Pavol held his salute until the Junior Sergeants hand was back by his side before dropping his salute and going to a more relaxed version of 'Attention',"Mladshiy Serzhant Vloyi, I do not know where Ryadovoy Druganin is, as I was completing my duties on roving patrol as was ordered."

Vloyi's expression changed to anger as he interpreted Pavol's response as sarcastic. He had known where Pavol was and what he was doing, and this disrespectful Private was not going to be embarrass him again, especially when the more senior Sergeant's could hear.

Vloyi drew his arm back and formed a fist with which to hit Pavol, "He is your bunk-mate, is he not. It is your responsibility to know where he is, as it his responsibility to know where you are." And he punched Pavol in the face.

Knocked off balance momentarily because of his inability to protect himself, Pavol thought, _'My sister hits harder than that'_. That thought made him want to smile but he knew that it would only make matters worse. _'Let this little dog bark all he wants.'_

Pavol quickly composed himself and stepped back to his former location, resuming the position of 'Attention.' "Yes Mladshiy Serzhant Vloyi, it is my responsibilty to know where Ryadovoy Druganin is at all times, I apologize for failing to perform my duty."

Vloyi was contemplating hitting him again when a deep voice called from inside the guard shack.

"Vloyi, you know Druganin is in sickbay, quit fucking with Alenin and tell him to get back on guard, he has two more hours."

Keeping his eyes on Pavol, Vloyi called over his shoulder, "Yes Serzhant Popov."

"You heard the Serzhant, get back on guard you shit stain," Vloyi commanded, "you're dismissed."

"Yes Mladshiy Serzhant Vloyi." Pavol responded and didn't move until the Junior Sergeant had reentered the building and closed the door.

Since Dmitri was now not able to rove, their Sergeant split the shift between Pavol, and Leonid, who was the next Private on the guard roster. Even though this was standard practice in the Chernorussian Army didn't mean that Pavol had to like it. Although it was only an additional two hours the weather was foul and blustery, and now so was Pavol's mood.

 _'I wonder if Leonid knows yet?'_ , Pavol thought as he fished around the inner pocket of his great coat for his cigarettes and lighter.

He knew it was against the rules to smoke while on guard, but since he wasn't going to get a break he figured that it would be okay - just this time. And what would it hurt? The Junior Sergeant had already gone back into his warm guard post and rejoined the card game with the other Non-Commissioned Officers.

Even though it was probably safe, Pavol moved deep into the wood line to find a place to smoke. He had walked until he couldn't see the light of the guard shack or hear the vodka-fueled laughter of the Sergeants. He didn't hate them, they all did their time 'on the line', although he thought Vloyi was a bit over the top. Vloyi took a certain disliking to Pavol because of a certain sports related matter.

 **X-X**

When Pavol and Dmitri had initially reported for duty on the airfield it was winter, and a portion of the large portion of the airstrip was frozen over. There was not much to do as flights were called off until the proper machinery could get to the airfield to de-ice the strip. As Soldiers, and NCO's, get in trouble when there is too much alcohol and not enough meaningful work, the officers organized a hockey game on the frozen portion of the airstrip.

When the administration sergeant informed them of the game Dmitri could have cared less about the game, but Pavol was ecstatic. He thought it was the perfect way to make friends and introduce himself to his new comrades. He thought wrong.

As there were more NCO's familiar with the game then there were Privates, the officers sided up with the Privates to even the teams. Pavol had played Left Defense while in high school and had a rocket of a shot from the point. He reported to the head officer in charge of the game, who in turn pointed him to the officer on the ice. When Pavol initially reported to the officer, the officer could have cared less. He changed his tune when he saw Pavol stretch out and warm up with the puck. The officer knew he had a 'ringer.'

And so, as it goes in many popular movies, Vloyi and Pavol are introduced.

Vloyi had the puck and was skating down Pavol's side of the ice. He had embarrassed the officer playing Left wing with a crafty maneuver and the NCO's on the bench cheered. _'One left and then the goal'_ , Vloyi thought, as he planned to deke in and move around Pavol on the outside; but Pavol saw that coming.

Pavol feigned like he fell for it, and when Vloyi broke to the outside with the puck, Pavol smiled to himself and quickly changed his angle thinking, _'They are going to love this'._

And when Pavol body checked Vloyi the officers and privates did like it.

But when there were no boards to stop Vloyi's momentum he skidded off the ice patch and rolled across the airstrip for a few feet. Pavol stopped short of edge of the ice and turned to face the cheers that he heard coming from both benches. He raised his arms and then was tackled from behind by the now very pissed off Vloyi who had reverted to his military rank of Corporal. They scuffled for a few moments and when Pavol realized it was a higher ranking soldier it wasn't a fun game anymore. The NCO's let the fight go as they were enjoying it greatly, but the officers broke up the fight. Vloyi and Pavol never got along since.

 **X-X**

Even though it was pitch black in the early morning hours Pavol was comfortable with his surroundings. He knew the area well and walked towards a small shed which held the lawn-maintenance equipment. Thinking it dangerous to smoke next to all of the stored fuel cans filled with petrol, Pavol moved deeper into the forest. He walked until he heard, and felt, a loud metallic thump. He winced in pain as his knee struck the lip of a metal exhaust duct.

The duct was one of three that protruded from the ground. Pavol had patrolled this area in the past and grew more curious every time he spotted one. The ducts were approximately 30 feet across from each other and were arrayed in a triangular fashion. In the center of the triangle they formed was a conspicuous small concrete building. The olive drab paint was bubbling from the concrete surface and flaked in spots. The building was just large enough to hold a very thick, and very locked metal door. After the door the building proceeded a few feet and dove into the ground. It was as if there was nothing behind the metal doors other then a steep set of stairs.

When he asked his Sergeants what was behind the door they told him to "Fuck off and stay out of there." When he asked a Major what was under the metal ducts, his response was a narrowed and suspicious brow followed by an inquiry as to why he wanted to know.

Pavol had shrugged and left it alone.

He had done his best to ignore the door for a while, but guard was so monotonous and boring that it gave him something to think about as he walked the "racetrack", which was a smoothed area cut into the ground from many boots that trod the earth away.

 _'Maybe it was stacks of gold left from the Cold War'_ Pavol thought, _'or, It might be stockpiles of Bizons, Dragunovs, and Smerch tactical equipment that the officers were selling on the black market.'_ Smiling a little to himself, _'Ha, it could be crates of Vodka that the NCO's kept on hand and stored away from the officers'_. But the most realistic choice was it was either empty, or storerooms of rotten and decrepit Russian Army uniforms, cheap protective masks, and flimsy military helmets that were already awash on the current market.

But he still would like to know one day.

Sighing because of his predicament Pavol sat down on the metal duct and lit his cigarette.

He exhaled bluish smoke into the frigid early morning air. He remembered from basic army field-craft that the smell of smoke travels further in the cold. He was fairly certain that the NCO's were still involved in their game and most of them smoked outside of the shack so there shouldn't be any trouble. They regularly drank while playing cards and the officers left them alone as long as they kept us Privates in line.

Pavol grew cold sitting on the duct so he stood and walked over to the "forbidden" door.

He had stood in front of many times.

He flicked his lighter and caught quick glimpses of the symbol on the door.

Finally, the wind died down long enough for his lighter to stay lit. Pavol took a drag off his cigarette and stood transfixed by the symbol of his curiosity. The symmetrical design consisted of three sets of dual prongs that formed circles. The larger symbol was laid over a much smaller circle which completed the design. It reminded Pavol of an old American speed metal group. What was their name Pavol thought..? He had seen a video of them in concert in Moscow with group called Slayer. Pavol screwed up his face in thought as he stared at the design. Ah, that's right, it was Biohazard. He wished he had been old enough to have seen the concert.

Pavol walked back to the metal duct to collect his gloves and get back to his duty.

Having finished his cigarette he went to stub it out on the metal duct but though better. They may see the mark and know that we were smoking out here. That would lead to some harsh punishments as some of the NCO's were cruel bastards.

Pavol found the lip of the duct and pushed the lit cigarette between the mesh.

* * *

What Pavol didn't know is that other soldiers had been putting paper and other trash down this chute for years. It had accumulated at the based of the exhaust.

In addition to that paper, was the petrol that Privates had dumped down the chute two days ago to get rid of. The NCO's wanted them to cut the grass around the traffic control tower and the guard shack. Being the ever resourceful individuals that they are, the Privates secretly dumped a three full cans worth so that they could tell the NCO's that the base was out of petrol. And it worked. The lucky privates got to scrub the hangar floors with brushes and buckets.

Pavol was already back on patrol thinking about what he would do with stacks of gold from behind the locked door when the fire caught petrol-soaked paper alight. The flames followed small rivulets of fuel under dry, olive-drab crates that also had the bio-hazard sign stamped on it as well. Jumping from fuel source to fuel source the fire also was able to transfer to a room which held 10 and 20 cubic-foot aerosol canisters. They too had the the bio-hazard symbol painted on their peeling olive-drab exterior.

Having been stored down in this forgotten cellar for almost two decades, the protective seals on crates and canisters had dry rotted away. Because of the intentionally dry environment in the bio-hazard bunker, it hadn't taken long for the first of many crates to catch fire, sending a thick, odorless, light-yellow smoke up the ducts and flowing out into the cold November air. As the wind was gusting from the north-northwest, the smoke was up and out of the ducts and dispersed before it became noticeable.

Because of its contents, the cellars location was intentionally hidden far away from the rest of the soldier's camp.

This was both beneficial and consequential, as it wasn't until...

...six hours after the fire started that someone followed the yellow smoke back to the metal vents, and reported it.

...eight hours after the fire started that an authority that had power, and cared, issued orders.

...and 12 hours after the fire started that the key for that mysterious door was found and a plan could be made

...and 18 hours after the fire started that valiant Privates, lead by a part-time fireman, put the fire out using antiquated and ineffective protective equipment.

Unfortunately, by that time, most of the airfields inhabitants had already been contaminated by the smokey/aerosol mixture...

...as had the downwind towns of Grisino, Kabanino, Stary Sobor, Novy Sobor - all the way out to Vyshoye, Guglovo, and Gorka.


End file.
